


Of Hot Pink Trees and Honeybees

by liggytheauthoress



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Gen, also Sherlock is a puppy, platonic!Joanlock, shameless Christmas fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liggytheauthoress/pseuds/liggytheauthoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"After over a month of living with Sherlock, Joan was somewhat used to coming downstairs and finding strange things - or people - in the flat as a result of one of Sherlock’s experiments.</p>
<p>But this was definitely a surprise."</p>
<p>It's Joan and Sherlock's first Christmas together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Hot Pink Trees and Honeybees

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing for this fandom, so please be gentle. Brought to you by my infinite, completely out-of-control platonic!Joanlock feels.

After over a month of living with Sherlock, Joan was somewhat used to coming downstairs and finding strange things - or people - in the flat as a result of one of Sherlock’s experiments.

But this was definitely a surprise.

“What’s all this?” she asked, gesturing with an arched eyebrow to the…structure in the middle of the living room.

“Ah, Watson,” Sherlock said without moving from where he lay sprawled on the couch. “You’re up. I thought that, since it’s the twenty-fifth of December, it would be appropriate to decorate the flat accordingly. Admittedly, I’ve never been one to really celebrate the holiday, but I know that you do - you finished your Christmas shopping a week after moving in - and who am I to break tradition?”

“Okaaay…But what is  _that_?”

Sherlock gave her a look, appearing slightly hurt that she had to ask. “I should have thought it was obvious. It’s a Christmas tree.”

Joan looked at it again, tilting her head a little. Now that she knew what it was supposed to be, she could see that it was, in fact, a tree. An artificial one. [With hot pink needles.](http://www.vickerman.com/mmVIC1/Images/B881661_1000.jpg) Joan wasn’t sure she wanted to know how or why Sherlock had gotten this particular tree.

As for the decorations, there were a scant few traditional ones - presumably bought at a convenience store for this occasion, since Joan couldn’t see Sherlock hanging on to any old ornaments out of sentimentality - but for the most part, it appeared that Sherlock had just thrown anything in the flat that would fit onto the tree. There was silverware, a couple of old scarves that Sherlock apparently didn’t wear anymore, microscope slides, some tennis balls leftover from Sherlock’s rooftop experiment, what looked like the remains of an old bedsheet…Sherlock had even managed to balance Angus on some of the firm lower branches.

It was the gaudiest, most bizarre Christmas tree Joan had ever seen in her life. And quite frankly? She loved it.

“Sherlock…”

“If you don’t like it, it can be taken down, of course,” Sherlock said, the petulant expression on his face replaced by one of indifference. “I know it’s a little unconventional, but-“

“No, it’s not that. It’s…it’s great.” Joan smiled at him. “Just a little surprising, that’s all.” She perched on the arm of the couch. “I really do like it.”

Sherlock gave a broad smile.

“I have to admit - I didn’t know if you’d want something or not, but…I did get you a Christmas present a couple of weeks ago.” Joan gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I got you-“

“Langstroth’s Hive and the Honey-Bee: The Classic Beekeeper’s Manual,” Sherlock finished (because of  _course_  he’d deduced what she’d gotten him). “Quite fortunate, really, as my old copy wore out several years ago and I’ve never gotten around to replacing it. Thank you, Watson.”

His tone was warm and sincere, and Joan was a little taken aback. She was even more taken aback when Sherlock produced a wrapped package from beneath the couch and handed it to her. “A small token of my esteem for your companionship these last few weeks,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

A Christmas present. Sherlock Holmes was giving her a Christmas present. Joan knew next to nothing about his past, but she knew this had to be a significant behavioral anomaly.

This was, however, still Sherlock, so Joan was somewhat cautious as she tore open the wrapping paper - with him, the package could contain anything. It turned out to be a large, sealed jar, filled to the brim with deep golden liquid. Honey. It was honey.

“From our own rooftop tenants,” Sherlock said, sounding an awful lot like a little boy eager to be praised for something he’d done.

Joan was somewhat at a loss for words. So she simply smiled at him again and said, quietly, “Merry Christmas, Sherlock.”

“Merry Christmas, Watson.”


End file.
